How Long Has It Been
by TheAUWalker
Summary: She would find exactly what she was looking for if only she would turn around. But it was too late now, and his heart was hard. Mifune's jaw was stinging, and An's laugh rang in his ears. MifunexMarie one-shot.


**A/N: This is a really sad story. I feel horrible for writing it but it was begging to get out of my head. I'm sorry if it's a bit confusing in the end, but basically, the real Marie only found him right before…you know. D:**

**I don't own Soul Eater, but I did have the first fanfiction for this pairing :D**

**Please review!**

**-o-o-o**

She would find exactly what she was looking for if only she would turn around.

He wanted to reach out, to speak, but his fingers would curl back and his mouth would shut.

She never really knew he was there.

The samurai Mifune was not a very social person, and usually spent his time away from others.

Marie was different.

She was like the sun, he thought.

She liked to talk and she was emotional and everything he was not.

Mifune would hear her cry and would want to speak that he was right there, that he could love her and care for her, but his throat was dry.

Even he knew it did not work that way.

She had to know he was alive first.

It was a quiet day when he met her, and he managed a smile, still nervous. After that he would see her around, but she was always tagging along with the stitched doctor, and Mifune knew he had no chance.

He would never leave her, protect her and always love her.

She just never knew.

-o-o-o

They killed Angela.

They killed Angela, and Mifune killed them. In the haze of rage he could see hands reaching out, trying to take hold and drag him away, and then his sword was plunged through their hearts.

He could not think.

Mifune left, forever holding rage against Shibusen.

They tried to reach him and tell it was an accident, but he did not listen.

An, his An.

She was gone and he had never felt so empty.

She would light him up and he loved her like his own daughter.

Mifune blamed himself and he hated Shibusen, he hated them all.

Years later he still wore his brown coat, and was sitting with hunched shoulders in the dark-lit bar.

He was not a drinker, he came there to think. It was the only place where the noise of other people could drown out his own thoughts.

Mifune was a cold man and he had a hard heart.

He was thinking about how on cold nights he would feel the little warm bundle that was Angela snuggled against his chest when someone spoke his name.

"Mifune?"

He whirled around, fists clenched.

The only ones who knew his name were _them_.

However, he would never hit a woman.

"What do you want?"

His voice came out as a hatred-filled snarl, and she flinched.

Mifune recalled he had loved her once, and her golden eye was filled with worry.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thinking. About An. Remember her?"

His glare was so intense that her eye started to fill with tears.

"Mifune, please, I-"

"I don't want your sympathy."

He turned back around.

His heart was cold and hard, and he did not want his walls to be broken down. He did not want to love and did not want to think.

It was too late now.

"I'm so sorry."

Marie's voice reached his ears, and Mifune hunched his shoulders, closing his eyes briefly at the memory of An's smile.

"What do you want?" he repeated. "How the hell did you even find me?"

"One of our meisters...and I just wanted to-"

"_An apology isn't bringing An back!"_

There was pure terror and pain in his voice, and Mifune grabbed his coat and left, the door swinging behind him.

He did not see Marie Mjolnir again for a very long time.

-o-o-o

He had changed.

The samurai's pale hair was cut short and his eyes were full of shadows, and he did not have a lot of time full of reason anymore.

He fought for money, but not with his sword.

After An had gone he did not allow himself to let anyone in again.

Mifune did not lose a fight.

He fought in a dirty pen with people shouting all around him, and his piece of straw bobbed in his mouth as he took opponent after opponent down.

When he saw her face in the crowd in the middle of the fight, the pure shock let his guard down. The other man's fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him backwards and into the wall.

Mifune finished the fight and collected his winnings, touching his bruised jaw briefly.

She met him outside, and he did not meet her eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

"This is what you've turned into?"

Mifune took a swig of something in a dirty bottle and wiped his mouth, slamming the bottle back down on the rickety table.

"Why do you care anyway? Still working for Death?"

"No, actually."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Went back to Oceania?"

"Yes, I retired."

"So you spend your days tracking down old murderers?"

He let out a harsh laugh at his own words.

Something was stinging.

Marie did not answer, and Mifune ran his fingers through his crudely cut hair.

"You know, I loved you once. And then I turned into this, a cold-hearted street fighter. Never would have guessed?"

"You never let go of Angela, did you?"

"How could I?" he rasped. "She was my world."

"You need to move on, Mifune."

There was strange tone in her voice.

"Give this up. Come back with me."

"Where?"

He crossed his arms over his pale chest.

"Oceania. We could use someone like you. They'd give you a real job."

"This is fine."

Something was burning.

"How long has it been?"

"Years...Mifune, they're coming. Shibusen is coming."

He really did laugh that time.

"Let them come. Changed their mind not to press charges?"

"That's not why."

He heard the rustle of her coat, and the chirping of the crickets.

Mifune glanced up at the stars.

"Look in the mirror."

He glanced downwards at his reflection.

A pale, gaunt face stared back, eyes filled with darkness and a mouth set in a firm line, his features set with anger.

"You're going mad, Mifune, and Shibusen can sense it."

She extended a hand.

Mifune did not want to move, but his lungs ached for fresh air, so he placed his dirty and bloody hand in hers.

He crumpled onto the dirty ground, the metal rod from his opponent's hand driven through his skull.

He died of a heart aching for his little girl, a heart aching for a lost love, and the swell of madness crushing his lungs.

The last thing he saw was a decapitated smile and Marie's actual horrified face from the doorway of the tavern.

_Angela, he thought._

And that was how Mifune the samurai died.


End file.
